


halloween week.

by fairybog



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, ep 55
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairybog/pseuds/fairybog
Summary: a normal week.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 15





	halloween week.

“Here, I brought you some tea. Thought you could use some.”   
  
Jon raises a questioning eyebrow at the cup and sets down the books he’d pulled for the research team’s newest wild goose chase. “Hmm. What kind?”  
  
Martin snorts derisively into his cup and pretends it doesn’t spill a bit down his front, ignoring the exasperated look he gets for it and how much it undermines his derision. “Oh, it matters _now_ , does it?”   
  
“Not really… Thank you, Martin.” The words are soft, and there’s a beat of unsure silence as Jon takes a sip.  
  
“No problem. So,” Martin casts about for something to say. “Do you have any Halloween plans?”  
  
Jon scoffs. “Like what?”  
  
“I dunno,” Martin scoffs back. “Scary movies, cheap candy, the Monster Mash. You still go trick or treating?”  
  
“Is.. that a joke?” Jon asks, very nearly smiling.  
  
Martin very nearly smiles back. “Obviously.”  
  
Another silence stretches between them, less awkwardly than what’s normal of late, but still not exactly easy. Someone further into the library coughs once, loudly, and Jon jumps a little. Martin clears his throat to redirect his attention while politely ignoring the flash of that hunted look he’s really starting to hate seeing. He does notice the bags under Jon’s eyes are a little lighter and that his hair looks like he’s actually brushed it. Maybe he’s gotten some sleep.  
  
“Did you hear they found thirteen new species of peacock spider this year?”  
  
Jon groans. “Oh, Martin-”  
  
Martin soldiers on, clearly emboldened by new spider trivia and someone to dump it on. “Thirteen! And they’re these teeny little things, with colorful backsides-”  
  
Jon lets out a sigh that admits his defeat for him and accepts his fate, eyes locked onto Martin’s face and the vain fight against a stoicism-betraying smile hidden in his cup. Martin finishes every bit of information he had memorized about their mating dances and the color patterns, and before either of them knows it he’s back into the usual spiel, excitedly gesticulating as he goes about reciting percentages of loss affected areas, pest control numbers, what types of webs what kind of hunters weave, the names of some of their eye arrangements, and even a brief dive into what oils and scents might help you keep spiders out of certain areas you don’t want them in while not killing them before whipping back around into the ecology of the local arachnid.  
  
“Well, most species are generalists, ecologically you know? And their generational times are longer than most of their prey’s, so you could completely remove one species and replace it with another and it wouldn’t make any real difference in the area’s equilibrium.”  
  
“Martin-” Jon sighs, finally unable to stand it any longer. It’s making the back of his neck itch, all this spider talk.  
  
“And because so many species overwinter, they’re integral to the early season for-for crops, and for gardeners, and their venom can be used to make biopesticides that are less damaging to the-”  
  
“I _know_ , Martin.”  
  
Martin blinks. “What?”  
  
“You’ve told me.”  
  
“Wh-?” Martin stammers, confusion clear in his expression. “ _What_?”  
  
“Yes, the last time we went down this rabbit hole.” There’s a pause as Jon takes another sip, trying to place what flavor this tea actually is; it’s oversteeped, he knows that much, but he can’t quite decide if addressing that would give away the game too early. “And the time before that.”  
  
“ ** _What_** _?_ ” Martin’s gaping, and going a little red in the face.  
  
“You mentioned the biopesticides, and the medicinal properties-”  
  
“They use it for Alzheimer’s treatment!” He’s not wrong, it just isn’t anything new in the way of information.  
  
“-And their utmost importance in the food chain. _Quite_ extensively.”  
  
A quiet moment breaks then as Martin roots around through his mental files, trying to place when exactly the “last time” they’d had this talk was. Jon watches his eyes flutter, like he’s flipping through a book or several pages of messily written notes.  
“Wait, how.. How many times have I-”  
  
“This would be the fourth.” Jon shoots him a _look_ over his glasses. “I get it. You like spiders.”  
  
“Oh.” There’s another pause, this one decidedly bringing the old sting of discomfort with it, and Jon winces inwardly as Martin’s face falls. “Sorry.”  
  
“I… Martin, that’s not what I-”  
  
Martin holds up a placating hand and smiles understandingly, apologetically. “No, no, you don’t like spiders very much, do you?”  
  
An understatement, to be sure. “Well. No, not.. Not really.”  
  
“So why didn’t you.. I don’t know, say something? Stop me before now?” Martin cocks his head curiously, and Jon has to consider the question for a second before answering, as if he wasn’t certain of the reason himself.  
  
“You.. I mean, you seemed content to talk about them, and I suppose I _did_ learn _something_ the first time around-” Not that he could specify precisely what, were it demanded of him. “-it’s just.. You can only have the same conversation so many times.” Jon sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair, staring into his mostly-drunk tea. Martin goes back on attentive alert at the look creeping into his eyes. “Besides, I’m.. I’m sure I’ve told you plenty about all sorts of things you don’t want to hear.”  
  
 _Christ._ “That’s- Jon, I want-”  
  
“To help, yes. I know.” There’s a rough, raw edge to his voice that seems to surprise them both.  
  
Martin takes a deep breath and gives Jon a chance to continue that he doesn’t take. “And you.. Believe me? That I want to help?”  
  
“... I don’t know.” Jon looks up, scans his face, sighs again and trades the cup for the pile of books on the table beside him. “I have to get these to Marjorie. She’s not going to _find_ anything, this man’s come in before about the exact same thing and it never amounts to anything-”  
  
Martin slumps as he hurries off from their impromptu teatime. “Jon, pl-”  
  
“Thank you for the tea, Martin.” He sounds genuine, but obviously can’t get away fast enough as he leaves back towards the research department, grumbling something to himself that sounds an awful lot like “ _can’t_ _believe anything”_.  
  
Martin collects the cup and decides to focus on the fact Jon drank almost all of it over the way that ended.


End file.
